Chapter Five

"More and More Apologies"

Tabitha

The night had crept in fully by the time we returned to my apartment, the quiet outside only amplifying the strange, electric tension in the air. As I set down my bag and kicked off my boots, Casper drifted in after me, a faint smile playing on his face as he took in the cozy clutter of my little living room.

"Feel like getting a pizza for dinner?" he asked casually, as if we'd been doing this for years.

"Pizza?" I repeated, slightly baffled. Then it hit me. "But I thought you didn't need to eat anymore?"

He shrugged with a casual grin. "I don't. But I figured you might not be in the mood to cook after everything."

Touched by his consideration, I nodded. "That's very thoughtful. And you're right—I'd rather avoid the kitchen tonight."

I ordered a large pepperoni pie with mushrooms and extra cheese, because cold pizza is the breakfast of champions. Then, I poured myself a glass of wine, ready to settle in after one of the strangest days of my life. As the deep currant liquid swirled in my glass, though, Morticia's ominous words echoed in my head. There she'd been, standing in the corn maze in all her couture, telling me to steer clear of Casper like he was some cursed trinket.

My eyes flickered over to him, hovering near the couch with a solemn expression. Could I really trust him? Sure, he seemed sincere now. But what if I helped him come back to life, and then he simply…ghosted me again?

As if he could sense my thoughts, Casper sighed, his transparent form shimmering a little. "You know, I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to help me from here, Tabitha. You, Morticia…the other women I left high and dry…you all have every reason to be angry."

His selflessness took me by surprise, but I kept silent, letting him finish.

"When I was alive, I thought that avoiding the conversation entirely was better than telling them I wasn't interested. I honestly believed it was kinder somehow. Looking back, I know now how wrong I was. They didn't deserve that. You didn't deserve that." He met my gaze with an intensity I hadn't seen before. "I'm learning a lot from this experience. And whether or not you choose to stick around, I want you to know I do value what we have."

Something in his words warmed me, like the soft glow from a candle. I could sense his remorse was genuine. Still, after everything, I needed to be careful. So I leaned back, resting my glass on my knee. "Alright," I said softly. "I'm willing to take a chance on you. On us."

Relief washed over his face, and he shot me a grateful smile. "Thank you, Tabitha. Really."

Just then, the doorbell rang, and I hurried to grab the pizza. After snagging a couple of slices, I curled up on the couch, wine in hand, and tossed Casper a smile as I took my first bite. "I was about to offer you some wine, but…"

He chuckled, a ghostly laugh that somehow filled the room. "Go ahead, I don't mind. Given the circumstances, I'd say you've earned a glass or two."

I took a long, indulgent sip, enjoying the smoothness of the cabernet as I settled deeper into the cushions. Casper, ever curious, leaned over to glance at the TV as I scrolled through movie options.

I paused on a Hallmark rom-com, something light and sweet to round off the night. Casper made a noise that could only be described as an unimpressed scoff.

"Really?" he asked, eyebrow raised. "Of all the movies, we're going with that? What about a murder mystery or something more... thrilling?"

I snorted, elbowing him gently. "Given your recent life—or death—experiences, I thought we'd keep it low-key."

A look of realization crossed his face, and he nodded. "Yeah…on second thought, Hallmark is just fine."

Satisfied, I hit play, letting the saccharine world of small-town love stories and predictable plot twists fill the room. Casper watched with mild interest, occasionally glancing my way, and for a few moments, it felt like we were just two regular people unwinding after a long day. By the time the movie ended, I felt an odd, almost comforting sense of normalcy that I hadn't expected.

I set my empty glass on the table and stood, stretching. "Well, I think I'm ready to turn in for the night. Big day tomorrow."

He gave me an exaggerated bow, stepping—or floating—aside as I made my way to the bedroom. "Sleep well, and don't let the ghostly boyfriend haunt you," he teased.

I rolled my eyes but couldn't suppress the smile that crept up. "Goodnight, Casper."

The following morning, Casper was already waiting by the window as I stumbled into the living room, coffee in hand, and tried to remember how to function. We had an unusual mission ahead: visit the women he'd ghosted and offer some form of apology. Not exactly a typical day in Sweetberry Hollow.

"Alright, so… who's first?" I asked, mentally steeling myself for the task.

Casper scratched the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. "Well… the first one I thought of was Ashley. She works as a vet tech, so we should be able to catch her at the clinic."

"Wait a second," I said. "You're an apparition now, remember? Not everyone can see you. What should we do if you aren't able to communicate with Ashley directly?"

"Hm," he replied, frowning. "Good point. Maybe you could tell her you're a medium and that you're there to deliver a message to her from me?"

I nodded, as it seemed sort of true. "It's worth a try," I agreed, grabbing my coat.

A short drive later, I found myself at Sweetberry Animal Clinic, my heart beating a little too quickly as I approached the front desk, Casper floating at my side. After asking for Ashley, I waited until a cheerful woman in blue scrubs with dark curls appeared, wiping her hands on a towel.

"Oh, hi there! Are you Ashley?" I asked, giving her my most polite smile.

She tilted her head, curiosity in her eyes. "Yep, that's me! I don't think I recognize you though—do you have a pet with us?"

I glanced towards Casper, who waved in her direction.

Ashley didn't blink.

"Crap," muttered Casper. "Nothing. We'll have to go to Plan B."

I cleared my throat, nerves making my voice waver slightly. "Um—sorry, I don't have a pet. I'm actually…a medium, and I'm here to pass along a message to you from Casper Thorne."

At the mention of his name, Ashley's smile vanished like a puff of smoke, her eyes narrowing. "Casper? You're joking, right?"

"No, I'm…I'm afraid not. He asked me to tell you that he's very sorry for ghosting you. He regrets his actions and hopes you can forgive him."

Ashley folded her arms, the irritation on her face unmistakable. "Tell him I don't care about his so-called ‘apology.' I'm engaged now, happily so." She held up her hand, flashing an impressive diamond ring in my face before crossing her arms. "Honestly, if you're not here with a pet in need, don't let the door hit you on the way out."

Before I could even respond, she spun on her heel and disappeared into the back, leaving me standing awkwardly in the lobby.

Hurrying out of the clinic and back out onto the sidewalk, Casper winced. "I can't say I blame her for her reaction. That was worse than I expected, though."

I nodded, thinking we'd need a different approach for our next attempt.

"How about if I compose a letter to be from you?" I suggested as we drove east on Pine. "We're close to The Lantern and Lore , so we can stop in there and I'll use the computer in my office to type and print it out. That way, we don't have to worry about trying to have me copy your handwriting. Drawing was never in my wheelhouse."

Casper perked up. "That's a great idea."

Stepping into The Lantern & Lore felt like slipping into my favorite old sweater. The familiar scents of aged paper and cedar hung in the air, mixed with lavender and a hint of vanilla from the candles I kept burning near the register. Golden morning light streamed through the front windows that looked out on the town square. Red and orange leaves now covered the green in front of the courthouse, and I spied a young mother with her long hair piled into a messy bun watching two young children happily jumping into a pile under a large maple tree.

The shop was quiet, and I relished the cozy atmosphere as I moved through the narrow aisles. The antique lantern sconces flickered with a soft glow, casting shadows across the spines of books about local legends, ancient folklore, and, of course, ghost stories—October bestsellers. Today, though, I wasn't here to organize or stock. Today was about writing an apology on behalf of my ghostly ex, who was now wandering around in the ether somewhere, probably in the Environment and Nature section.

Once inside my small office in the back, I settled in, surrounded by my usual organized chaos. Papers were piled high, sticky notes littered my desk with reminders I'd long since forgotten, and a half-burned candle perched next to my laptop. I could just make out the faint vanilla scent it had left behind. Sitting at my desk, I opened my laptop, fingers hovering over the keyboard as I began typing out Casper's apology to Gina, the next woman on his list, hoping this one might actually get through.

But my mind kept drifting, stubbornly tugged toward questions I couldn't ignore. Sweetberry Hollow had always been steeped in rumors about ghosts, witches, and even the occasional vampire. I'd brushed them off before, happy to enjoy the town's spooky charm from a skeptical distance. But now, with a literal ghost hanging out in my apartment, there was no ignoring the town's mysteries, especially when I seemed to be one of the few people who could actually see him.

I started typing again, only for my thoughts to wander once more. Daphne and Esme were members of the Eastern Enchantresses, Sweetberry Hollow's friendliest coven of witches, who spent most of their time cleansing "negative vibes" with sage bundles and discussing lunar cycles. Daphne had always tried to nudge me to believe in the mystical world, but she'd never actually hinted that I might have a knack for it myself. And yet, here I was, holding full conversations with a ghost. If that didn't raise a few questions, I didn't know what would.

Unable to resist, I pushed my chair back and crossed the room to my bookshelves, the ones in the office stacked with the rare and old books that didn't often make it to the shop floor. My fingers traced along the spines until they settled on a few books about occult communication, folklore, and local legends. Then one title caught my eye: Spirits of the Hollow . The cover was worn, and the pages smelled faintly of old leather and ink. It was one of the first books I'd added to my collection when I opened the shop, though I'd never had a reason to read it. Today felt like the perfect time to change that.

I flipped through the yellowed pages, my fingers lingering over a chapter titled " Seers and Sensitives. " According to this old book, Sweetberry Hollow was home to certain people with a "sensitivity" to spirits, an ability that allowed them to communicate with the dead, sometimes unknowingly. However, this ability could manifest in different ways depending on the paranormal nature of the person, such as a psychic medium, a witch, or a necromancer. As I skimmed through the lines, I felt an odd twinge in my chest, but glancing up at the clock, I closed the book for later reading. I still wasn't convinced I had any latent powers, but I couldn't deny the possibility anymore. Maybe I was connected to Casper in ways neither of us had fully understood before.

With that unsettling thought in mind, I pulled the printed apology letter for Gina out of the printer, folded it carefully inside an envelope, and tucked it into my bag. It seemed like a flimsy peace offering given everything, but it was worth a shot. If this strange journey with Casper was going to help him make amends—and help me understand my own ties to this weird town—then I'd keep at it, one letter at a time.

Our second visit took us to a small apartment complex on the outskirts of town. I knocked on her door, hoping she'd be home. Thankfully I heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and a minute later she opened her door, squinting at me with suspicion.

"Hi, you must be Gina. I'm…a neighbor of yours," I fibbed quickly, "and I think this letter was mistakenly delivered to me. It's addressed to you from a Casper Thorne." I reached into my bag and handed her the envelope.

Without even glancing at it, she folded it into a little airplane and flung it down the hall. "If it's from that weasel, I don't need to read it," she muttered, shutting the door in my face.

Casper sighed, his face lined with guilt.

"This isn't working, is it?" he said, looking utterly defeated. "I really want to make amends, but I honestly don't know how anymore."

I thought for a moment, and then an idea hit me. "Wait. Why don't we try a public apology? Something on social media?"

His eyes brightened at the suggestion. "That's…actually not a bad idea. I could reach everyone all at once. No awkward encounters having you be my go-between."

We returned to my apartment, stopping on the way at a local café where I picked up a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich for lunch. After I ate, I opened my laptop, where we spent the next hour drafting the apology, with Casper dictating his thoughts while I typed the post on his social media account.

"I owe a massive apology to anyone I hurt by ghosting them. I was immature and thought I was sparing feelings, but I see now how wrong I was, and that honesty is always the best policy. I am sincerely sorry to everyone I affected."

After a deep breath, I hit "post," and within minutes, the responses started rolling in. Women thanked him for his transparency, friends chimed in to support his growth, and a few people expressed relief at seeing him own up to his mistakes.

Casper seemed visibly lighter, a sense of relief washing over him as he read through the comments. "This…actually feels kind of good," he admitted. "Better than I expected, anyway."

Just as he finished speaking, the window flew open, and a gust of wind burst through the room, blowing the curtains wildly. The lights flickered, and a peal of thunder cracked overhead.

Then, in a flash of lightning, Morticia swooped in, perched on a broomstick, her crimson lips twisted into a wicked smirk.

"Don't celebrate just yet, darling," she cackled, landing with an ominous click of her heels as she eyed us both.

I shrieked, dropping my coffee cup as Morticia, elegant and terrifying, made herself at home in my living room.